


Save me - Connor POV

by Rk800downloading



Series: Save me [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Androids, Crime Scenes, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hurt/Comfort, Investigations, Red Ice (Detroit: Become Human), Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-07-14 13:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16041356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rk800downloading/pseuds/Rk800downloading
Summary: Connor's point of view of "Save me"!





	1. VICTIM

_//SCAN… IN PROGRESS_

_//SCAN… RESULTS…_

“Connor this is-”

“Todd Williams, born on September 21st, 1995.” Connor tilted his head towards Hank as he spoke. “Currently unemployed, with a criminal record due to drug possession.”

“Why do I even bother?” Hank sighed, tossing a manilla folder of pictures in Connor’s direction. “This was the state they found him in.”

Connor begun analyzing the pictures, only breaking his concentration to stare at the bedridden male in front of him. Brown hair, blue eyes, 6 ft, 160 lbs (with recent signs of rapid weight loss) - chapped lips, pale skin, evidence of pressure ulcers.

“Todd Williams,” Connor repeated as he continued to study the man, “found by a concerned neighbour, unresponsive - but alive - covered in his own feces on the couch in his living room.”

“They recently did a brain scan - found out his brain was rotting.”

“Neurodegeneration?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. “Not like Parkinsons, Alzheimers, or Huntington’s disease though.”

Connor brought up the results of Todd’s brain MRI before his eyes, comparing it to the last 127 cases of unexplained neurodegeneration he could find.

“Nothing - no specific area of degeneration.” He dug deeper, pulling up DNA sequences. “No trends of amino acid repeats, no common mutation.”

Hank grabbed the photos, leafing through them. “Maybe we’re looking in the wrong direction.”

“Meaning?”

The Lieutenant paused, pulling the corner of his lips into a lopsided smirk. “ _Meaning_  maybe we need to stop looking at results and look at what might’ve caused them.”

_//MESSAGE…_

_//MESSAGE… RECEIVED_

“Hank.” Connor stood abruptly, his voice becoming urgent. “An anonymous tip was just placed to the DCPD.”

Hank’s eyes were wide, staring at Connor in anticipation. “And?”

“It is a tip on GOR’s whereabouts.”

The lieutenant grabbed his jacket, one foot already out the door.

“Then what the hell are we waiting for?”

—

Hank’s hair and beard had grown approximately 2 mm compared to seven days ago, his skin appeared pale (possible anemia?), the bags under his eyes sagged with a purple tint-

“Geez, you pissed off or something?” Hank’s voice interrupted Connor’s focus. “That’s some glare you’re giving me…”

“I’m not capable of anger, Hank.” Connor smiled, electronically placing an order for iron pills. “I could never be angry with you.”

Hank cringed. “Stop that.”

“I was merely analyzing your appearance.” Connor obliged, returning his face to its stoic state.

“You were analy-” Hank sighed, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose. “Whatever. We’re here, so look alive pretty boy.”

“Lieutenant, androids aren’t alive-”

“God, look dead then.” Hank grabbed the car handle, his voice taking on an edge. “But if we miss GOR cause you’re too busy being a smart ass- you’ll seriously be dead. Because I’ll kill you.”

Connor wanted to repeat himself - to make sure that Hank really knew that he wasn’t alive, that he couldn’t be killed. But he knew it was inefficient to argue, inefficient to provoke Hank - so instead he did the most efficient thing he could think of: end the conversation.

He stepped out of the car, taking a scan of his surroundings. Time crawled to a slow as blue grids filled his vision - running up the sides of the derelict apartments, text boxes of previous ownership and news of abandonment appearing before his eyes as he entered the building.

“The signal was received on the eighth floor.” A police officer called out to Hank, tablet in hand. “It was sent from an android.”

Connor quickly scanned the tablet, climbing the stairs with haste. “That model of android isn’t in circulation anymore - Cyberlife recalled the model, ordering for its destruction.”

“So you’re saying-” Hank followed after, wheezing and panting between each flight of stairs. “That this android shouldn’t be alive -  _ah, fuck_ \- right now?”

“Precisely.”

“ _So_  we’ve got another deviant on our hands-  _Oof!_ ”

Hank bumped into Connor’s back, eyes growing wide as he took a look into the room.

They were greeted by thirium - a large quantity of fresh thirium - it’s trail leading from an deactivated, broken android, over and across a woman -  _across you_  - bruised, cut, legs splayed and collapsed beneath yourself.

“A human-” Hank gulped, moving forward with caution. “Is she alive?”

“Yes, but her vital signs are extremely weak.” Connor scanned your face - learning your name, date of birth, occupation, and anything else he could find.

He approached, carefully grabbing your hand. “Hello, my name is Connor. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife.”

You reacted to Connor’s voice, looking up, analyzing his face with curious eyes. He could see your shoulders trembling, he could feel how frail your hand felt against his.

“Do you feel as if you can stand?” Connor offered, his warmest smile on his face.

Your mouth opened for a moment, suddenly clamping shut. Tears began to pour from your eyes, a tremor rolling throughout your body.

“Connor what the hell did you say to her?” Hank walked forward, his brow furrowing at the sight of a crying woman.

“I introduced myself. However, from my readings, I believe she is in shock.” Connor frowned - he couldn’t understand why humans seemed to dislike his smile so much.

“Fuck, anyone would be in shock after witnessing  _that_.” Hank sighed, gesturing to the mangled android next to you. “Get her out of here - and clean her up.”

“Understood, Hank.” Connor repositioned himself closer. “Is it okay if I wipe this thirium from your face?”

You looked up again, tears subsiding as you managed an answer. “O-okay.”

“You’ve been through a lot tonight.” Connor went to smile - stopping before he might make you cry again. “If it’s alright with you, I will take you back to the station with Lieutenant Anderson. You can take a shower there, but I will try to clean you as best as possible now.”

Although he sounded confident, other than apprehensions of criminals and the examinations of corpses, Connor had never  _really_  touched a human before. He took in the bounce of your skin, noting how it felt pleasant against the sensors in his fingertips. He noted the way your eyelashes glistened from the remnants of your tears - and even caught himself imagining what you might look like when the flush returned to your face.

“Are you cold?” He asked, unsure of exactly why he did.

Your gaze met his, eyelashes brushing against his thumb as you blinked. He could feel the weight of your head pressing into his palm - and then you hazily called his name.

_//SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^_

“Yes?” Connor answered, doing his best to ignore the sudden flashing message in the corner of his vision.

“Oh, I just- I couldn’t remember if that was your name or not.” You smiled. “I am cold,  _Connor_.”

The message reappeared - this time bolder - this time drawing more attention. Connor ran a diagnostics program, becoming confused when it reported zero errors.

“I am pleased that you remember my name.” He replied distractedly, running a diagnostics again - his confusion deepening when it returned the with the same report. 

He sighed - a programmed human tic. He would need to deal with this later.

“Hopefully this will suffice until we get you to the car.” Connor took off his jacket, carefully placing it over your bruised shoulders. He watched as you snuggled into the fabric, regretful that he couldn’t have made it more warm for you.

He placed his hands onto the small of your waist as he attempted to help you stand - he wanted to get you to the station as fast as possible. You needed food, water, fresh clothes-

He paused for a fraction of a second.  _Why was he having these irregular thinking patterns? Should he ask Hank about it? Amanda?_

_Did it have to do with those error messages?_

Connor didn’t get far into the thought. He was interrupted by your sudden scream, caught off guard by the way your body lost its strength. His arms reached out, wrapping themselves around you - desperately grasping to keep you from falling.

“Hank!” Connor shouted for the Lieutenant’s help, lowering himself to the ground, resting your head upon his lap. “Hey, stay with me!” He looked to your pale face, a sudden unknown process entering his system, squeezing and wrenching at the biocomponents in his chest.

It was a strange  _feeling_ , something Connor had never experienced before. He looked up possible reasons, problems, switching to symptoms, explanations, stopping as he found the word ‘worry’ - and then he saw it again. The same message in the corner of his vision.

_//SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^_


	2. ENIGMA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I finally stole my writing mojo back from Dr.Evil, so hopefully I can start posting more frequently again! But actually, school sucks and work sucks - so I'll try my best :')
> 
> As always, thank you to my dear friend [Autumnfrore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumnfrore/)

Connor wrung the cloth, letting water spill through his fingers and splash onto his synthetic skin. He knew what water felt like - the trickling sensations of rain, and the heavy dampness of humidity. He could slow time to a crawl and watch hydrogen bonds forming between droplets or van der Waal forces interacting between his sensors and the stream pouring from the tap.

Connor knew that humans could not observe intermolecular forces, that they could not analyze the amount of water vapour pressing against their skin.

He ran the towel over your curves, erasing the blue from your skin, patting you dry, scrutinizingly placing nanomachine band-aids over any cuts that he could find.

_What could a human like you feel?_

The temperature of the water or the texture of the cloth?

Or the feeling of Connor’s fingers brushing against you?

_//SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^_

Again, Connor blinked at the message in the corner of his vision. The probability that this ‘message’ was a random error had begun to grow further and further from chance, and closer to its occurrence being dependant on you -  _but why?_  Why had Connor seen this message four times since meeting  _you_?

He looked over your bare skin one last time, analyzing, discovering. You had scars, marks - intricate and delicate features all canvased across your body. Connor became reminded of art - how each spot seemed to be put in the perfect place, distinguishingly and meaningfully. He wondered if those ‘messages’ had appeared because he thought you were beautiful. Androids always  _did_  have the ability to find something aesthetically pleasing - Connor had just never found that ‘ _something_ ’ until now.

 _It didn’t matter though_ , he convinced himself until those irritating messages disappeared.

He pulled fresh DCPD sweats over you, letting your unconscious body lean against his as he slipped your arms through the shirt’s holes. He carefully slid the pants up your legs, pulling it’s drawstring into a neat bow at your navel.

All of these illogical ideas did not matter.

All that  _did_  matter was ensuring your help once you woke up.

“She decent?” A voice rang from the other side of the door.

Connor walked over, opening the door to a very impatient gray-haired man. Hank stood, arms crossed, foot tapping - an impressively grumpy scowl across his face.

He paused as he walked into the room, raising an eyebrow. “ _Phew_  - you did a good job, huh? You sure you’re not some refurbished cleaning model?”

“Hank.” Connor could barely contain a scoff.

“ _Heh_ ,” the man chuckled to himself. “How long has she been out now?”

“Nine hours and thirty-one minutes.”

Hank’s grin faded into another scowl. “Damn. GOR’s trail is gonna be cold by the time she does come around.”

Connor went to speak, stopping as your heart rate began to climb and your breathing became quicker. He turned to look at you, pushing his earlier thought processes far from focus.

“Hey, the kid’s awake.” Hank peered at your barely conscious body, folding his arms tightly across his chest again. “She didn’t bump her head or anything did she?”

Connor mirrored the action. “No. I managed to catch her in time.”

Hank’s gaze quickly shifted to Connor, skeptically running up and down his lean frame. He laughed. “With those scrawny arms?”

“Lieutenant,” Connor  _did_  scoff this time. “Did you forget I was an android?”

“Ah, screw you.”

Suddenly, your eyes fluttered open, eyelashes illuminated by the LED lights overhead. Connor couldn’t help but commit the color and freckles of your eyes to memory - he didn’t get a chance to notice them the night before.

“Welcome back.” Hank’s expression was soft - contradictory to his irritable one earlier. “You hanging in there?”

Connor continued to monitor your condition. “Her vitals indicate that she isn’t fully awake yet, Lieutenant.”

Hank glanced up, the irritated expression back for a moment before he looked down again. “Cut the formal crap would you? I told you to call me Hank when Fowler isn’t around.”

Cyberlife had programmed Connor to maintain a sense of professionalism - he was the most advanced prototype the company had to offer. Calling the Lieutenant by his first name even when other humans were in proximity conflicted this - but priorities  _could be_  changed.

“Sorry…” He began to say, determined to further integrate. “Hank.”

The Lieutenant grinned in response.

Without warning, you sat up - eyes frantically scanning over your hands and then your body. It didn’t take Connor’s analytic abilities to know the question on your mind -  _“what happened?”_

“You’ve been unconscious for nine hours, thirty-two minutes and five seconds.”  _and 35 milliseconds_ , Connor thought but did not say aloud. He attempted to smile again, briefly looking up images of  _‘friendly smiles’_  and trying his best to replicate them. He hypothesized that it was not his smile that Hank didn’t like, or that shocked you the other day - but rather that he had smiled at  _the wrong time._

But you gasped in response, and Connor’s hypothesis was rejected as fast as you had unknowingly rejected his smile.

“Connor, damn it, you’ve gotta get better at explaining things.” Hank sighed, stepping in to offer an explanation. “Look, I’m Lieutenant Anderson, and if you don’t remember, the pretty boy here is named Connor - we work for the Detroit City PD. We tried to get you out of that crime scene last night but you started screaming - then you passed out. It started when you saw all the thirium so we figured it would be best to clean you up before you came to, but we didn’t have any female staff so-”

“I cleaned you up.” Connor finished, straightening his posture. “I am not a caretaking model by any means, but I think you’ll find your hygienic state satisfactory.”

Your face grew pink - and Connor noticed. Increased heart rate, flushed cheeks - classical symptoms of  _embarrassment._

“Oh, do not worry. I am a machine after all.” He kept his voice short in an attempt to defuse the situation.

Hank furrowed his brow, lightly kicking the side of Connor’s leg - an indication that he didn’t understand what was going on.

“When I informed her of  _who_  cleaned her, I noticed her heart rate elevated.” Connor answered. “So I thought it might assure her to know that, I as a machine, did not try to take advantage of her unconscious state.”

You hid your face and Hank groaned simultaneously.

“Oh, God, Connor!” He landed a hard smack on the android’s back, shaking his hand in pain from the aftershock. “Can you download a subtlety app or something?”

Connor grunted from the impact, hastily queuing social etiquette videos for later analysis.

“… I will make a note of that.”

“Getting this shit show back on track,” the lieutenant sighed as he sat down next to you on the couch. “Can you remember anything of the incident that happened last night?”

“I-” You began to say, but looked as if the words had gotten lost. Instead of finishing your sentence, you sat still - only opening your mouth again to utter the words  _“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”_

“Well, that’s gonna be a problem.” Hank exchanged a meaningful glance with Connor, his lips turning downwards into a frown. “There’s a deviant who goes by the alias of  _GOR_. We’ve been hunting him, but now it looks like he’s hunting  _you_.”

 _Did Hank think you were withholding information?_  Connor entertained the idea. “We were able to extract some badly fragmented data from a nearby surveillance camera. The android corpse from the night before protected you - although from the video, its motive is unknown.” He paused, taking a moment to monitor your stress levels.

_Almost optimal._

He pushed a bit further. “However, it’s clear that GOR tried to kill you that night.”

Your face became pale again, jaw locked as if you were trying to swallow the information and had choked on it.

Connor reached out, grabbing your hands the way he had when he found you. “You’re trembling.” He spoke softly - it appeared as if you genuinely did not remember.

_He had gone too far._

A look of regret flickered across Hank’s face as he realized the same. “It’s a lot to take in kid, don’t force yourself to remember all at once.”

You gulped, blinking hard. “I’m okay.” A whisper escaped your throat. “Please continue.”

Despite your permission, Connor hesitated. You were not a deviant, you would not self-destruct - but  _something_  made him falter.

“All of the evidence we have - the android body, the video…” He spoke reluctantly. “It’s the most we’ve had for weeks…”

 _All that mattered was ensuring your help_ , he reminded himself. Amanda would overlook these illogical thoughts if he continued to apprehend deviants - especially a deviant like GOR.

“We  _need_  your help putting all the pieces together.” His voice took on a convincing tone - although unsure of who exactly he was trying to convince.

But you didn’t respond right away - something was making  _you_  falter too. Instead you turned to face the gray-haired man, eyes wide and glossy. “Lieu-”

“Just call me Hank.” He interrupted.

“Hank- what if this GOR hurts you two for being by me? Like the other android…”

Connor froze, having failed to anticipate your response. Hank was a weapons-trained, seasoned officer and Connor was a replaceable machine - an android without emotion or feelings.  _Why were you concerned?_

“You don’t need to worry about that.” Hank spoke first. “Me and pretty boy would never let some deviant prick get to us. Anyways, decide if you wanna help or not, but I’ve got shit to do.” He stood from the couch, making his way to the door. “Tell Connor when you’re ready.”

Connor watched as Hank’s back disappeared from sight, more and more questions beginning to formulate and surface into his vision. His sensors fixated on the delicate hand clasped within his - you had never once pulled away from his touch, instead you leaned into it as if the android had a warmth he could share.

“Does holding my hand comfort you?” Connor asked aloud, carefully observing your reaction. Heart rate elevated,  _again_. Breathing shaky, but within normal limits. Blood flow increased to cheeks and ears.

“Y-yes,” You murmured, startled. “It’s very nice.”

‘ _Nice_ ’. Connor pondered the word. An adjective - pleasant; agreeable; satisfactory.

“I noticed it helped stabilize you at the crime scene when you were unresponsive.” He began to speak openly. “Although I am equipped with a module that helps me easily integrate and adapt to humans, I am unsure as to why my hand would have such an effect on you.”

“It feels nice to hold your hand Connor, that’s why it eases me.” You replied, and the message appeared again - instantly, as if Connor hadn’t spent the last nine hours and thirty-eight minutes trying to rid himself of it.

“I see.” He muttered absentmindedly, running another diagnostics program despite having full confidence that it would return with no errors to report - but Connor tried anyways, again and again - unsure of what else he  _could_  do.

He looked into your eyes as if they held an answer - but they only held more questions.

_//SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^_

This time, the message could barely flicker to life before Connor dismissed it, no longer willing to give the matter any more attention. If this continued, he would lose efficiency.

_He would lose purpose._

“Well then,” His voice came out more curt than he had intended. “You may hold my hand at anytime if it helps you. May I continue talking to you about this case?”

Expression bleak, hands beginning to take on a cold sweat - you had noticed his tone, but nodded anyways.

“We’ve spent some time looking for this deviant.” Connor wasted no time getting to the point. “We believe he has ties to red ice manufacturing as well as many other android and human homicide cases - also to reiterate, it is confirmed that he is trying to kill you.”

He leaned forward, giving your hand a small squeeze as he attempted to negotiate. “You are invaluable to this case. I can personally protect you if you agree to help us catch GOR. I’ve done a background check on you. You’re a good girl and I think it would be a shame if anything happened to you.”

And it would be a shame - from Connor’s background check, you were nothing but an upstanding citizen. You moved to the city in your late teens. From there you took on multiple jobs, never late, always with good reviews. You paid your taxes, you had a good reputation.

_How did you get mixed up with a person like GOR?_

“A good girl?” You giggled, making Connor lose track of his thought processes. “Do you say these things to everyone?”

He tilted his head at the absurd question. She was  _truly_  the only ‘good girl’ he knew - not that he could even fathom a situation where he found himself saying it to someone else.

“No.” He decided to respond truthfully. “I’ve only ever said it to you.”

An abrupt rush of heat crept to your face, staining your cheeks pink again - like Connor had already seen so many times today. Was it still embarrassment? Perhaps nervousness or even attraction?

“Will you agree to help me?” He asked, leaning just a bit closer - testing the depths of red that your cheeks would flush.

But you stopped - eyes no longer on Connor, instead somewhere in the distance.

“Do you promise to protect yourself?” You finally replied, gaze steeled in a way that Connor couldn’t understand.

_Protect myself?_

Connor did not want you to see him as anything more than an expendable android, a machine designed to accomplish a task.

But he now  _knew_  that you did.

He knew that you saw him as having a life worth  _protecting_  - that you saw him in the likeness of a  _human_. Suddenly everything made sense - why you were embarrassed earlier, why you exhibited those symptoms that you did.

“Is that android’s death bothering you? It’s just a  _machine_.” His face twisted into a frown. “It can be  _replaced_. I can be replaced too if anything should happen to me.”

Connor also knew that you hated what he had just said - but you refused to back down.

“Do you promise to protect yourself?” You repeated, firmer this time.

Connor sighed - the same programmed human tic. “Is that what it’ll take for you to help us with this case?”

“Yes.” You spoke sincerely.

He could see in your eyes that you wouldn’t take no for an answer - but that didn’t matter. Connor knew he was good at being convincing.

“I promise.” He lied.


End file.
